Suck down a Gu and call that lunch or dinner before I hit the treadmill.

Close my eyes and walk away from the disaster that is my house.

Borrow someone else’s shoes (socks, sports bra, workout clothes, etc)

Steal my husband’s running socks.

Stick my ponytail lacking a forgotten hair tie through a hat and call it good.

Setup a play area within eyeshot of the treadmill in my basement and run in short intervals determined by the whims of the child of mine who was so fortunate to accompany me. (Run. Get her a drink. Run. Fix her video game. Run. Take her to the potty. Run. Help her find her missing toy.)

To name just a few strategies I’ve employed to weasel my way into a run. But yesterday…yesterday might just take the cake.

Now, I’ve written before about my potty training struggles with the thoroughly disinterested Tiger of mine. It was getting slightly ridiculous in my humble opinion. But I’m happy to report, she’s now doing much much better. Barring an occasional accident (usually when mom forgets to ask), she’s got the whole peeing in the potty thing down. It’s the other we’re still having a …um…less than delightful challenge with.

As long as I am paying close attention, I can tell when it’s coming if you know what I mean. I catch her and get her to the potty right away. Sometimes (and I do mean sometimes) she’ll tell me. The real challenge here lies in timing.

If I’ve not been so fortunate as to get her to put the crown jewels in the thrown by nap time, I’ve a major problem. You see, the Tiger is no longer capable of tolerating poo in her diaper. It’s “distinky” and also sometimes “gusting.” And since she’s incapable of tolerating such wretched filth, this means that should it happen during nap time, she’s totally going to make her own 3 year old attempt at taking care of it. This is not good. Not by a long shot.

But if it’s not ready, it’s not ready. You can’t really force it out of her. And it certainly doesn’t help matters that the Tiger is FAR too busy to sit around and wait. So if it’s not knocking at the door, it’s a no go. She’s out of there. As for nap time however, she’s got all the time in the world and nothing better to do. You see my problem. No poop = no nap. No nap = no run. **SIGH**

So yesterday, with a run on the agenda and my daughter not fulfilling her daughterly duties by lunch time. I started to get nervous. By noon, there was a pit in my stomach. It HAD to be done by 1:00 gosh darn it, or there wouldn’t be enough time to get the nap/run in AND make it to my daughter’s school to pick her up on time. And I really REALLY needed that run (I’d explain. But I know that’s not necessary here It was just one of those days.)

Then around 12:15ish, I thought I smelled something. But I STILL couldn’t get that little booger to sit still long enough to take care of it. Growing desperate, I attempted a bribe. A popsicle. She was thrilled! And…promptly ran over to the potty, peed and ran away begging for her popsicle. ARGH! If only I could get her to sit still long enough, I just knew I get in that run, my precious sweet run. So I did the only thing I could think of…

I sang. And not just any song. Oh no! I made up a poop song to keep her entertained on the pot. A song that I sang for close to 20 MINUTES mind you to keep her sitting still in position and let nature take it’s course.

20 MINUTES! Over and over and over and over… She was so amused. Me not so much so, but like any good mom, I faked it and sang my guts out with a smile on my face. Now, I know you all are just sitting on the edge of your seat waiting to hear the song lyrics, and I’ve tried to type them up for you, but really it just looks stupid. Plus you don’t know the tune and without it that just makes the grammy worthy song sound silly. Maybe I’ll see if I can get Tiger to sing it and I’ll post it for you instead (don’t hold your breath though).

Anyhow, finally, at about 12:58, she did it! And that popsicle was all hers. By 1:00, she was in bed (yep, she eats them fast. No mess that way. It rocks). A minute or two later, I was on the treadmill happily running. Then, 3/4 of a mile into my run, the baby woke up and started wailing.

(Ok…not exactly wailing in that picture. It was a pause between tears to figure out what I was doing with that camera.)

Ah well…‘tis the life of a running mom…

P.S. I hear Google Friend connect is going to be a thing of the past soon. You may want to go give me a like on FB, follow me on Twitter or subscribe by email (upper left) if you don’t want to miss any of my vitally important posts on poop, kids, running and wild ferocious nonexistent bear cubs that may thwart my marathon attempt. If you’re not much of a fan, well, I’m not entirely sure what you’re doing here anyway, but see ya when I see ya.

3 comments:

We totally need to go out for coffee or drinks sometimes because this sounds so like me!! My daughter has no time to be bothered by sitting on a silly potty! She squeezes her butt cheeks together so tight so that she can just keep on going!!

RunNana-My mom, a junior high teacher, and breast cancer survivor who started running when she was 54. You'll meet her in the comments. She reads every single post I write. Probably to make sure I stay out of trouble.

Mobile Mile Marker, Mighty Mole Man, Papa- My dad, who last year rode his bicycle 100 miles (at once) to see if he could, but's also gracious enough to lolligag around with me oh his bike, mark the miles and chase the pervs away on my long runs

RunSis- The one & only, my little sis. Marathoner in the making & the mom I hope to one day grow up to be